


I thought if I acted like it didn't matter, then it wouldn't

by a_mess



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Adam Parrish - Freeform, Blue Lily Lily Blue - Freeform, Call Down the Hawk, M/M, The Dream Thieves - Freeform, The Raven Boys - Freeform, The Raven Cycle - Freeform, The Raven King - Freeform, pre-TRB, pre-dating, pynch - Freeform, ronan and adam, ronan lynch - Freeform, ronan lynch x adam parrish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-06-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:21:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24539923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_mess/pseuds/a_mess
Summary: This was suggested from a dialogue prompt list I posted on my tumblr! prompt #2: "I thought if I acted like it didn't matter, then it wouldn't." for Pynch. This is set pre- The Raven Boys or somewhere in the beginning.TW: mention of abuse !!
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 1
Kudos: 66





	I thought if I acted like it didn't matter, then it wouldn't

**Author's Note:**

> TW: mention of abuse
> 
> #2: I thought if I acted like it didn't matter, then it wouldn't

Adam knocked on the door of Monmouth Manufacturing but it was already open, so he guessed it didn’t matter anyway.

He remembered seeing the inside of Monmouth for the first time. The books and historical memorabilia scattered around the room. The factory style window panes with tiny square after square of glass; the way light shining through them made a checkerboard pattern on the floor. There was an air of mess and simplicity about it that could only be money trying to pass off as aesthetically thrifty. 

Seeing it now, today, Adam saw more. He saw that the miniature model of Henrietta on the floor had a new row of buildings, meaning Gansey hadn’t slept the night before. The sheets were off his bed and curled in a ball on the floor just past where the model ended. he saw—

He saw Ronan Lynch, sitting in Gansey’s desk chair with his eyes closed and headphones on, blasting music so loud Adam didn’t know how he hadn’t gone deaf. His feet were up on the desk, resting on top of an open book. Adam scoffed. If Gansey were here, he knew that wouldn’t be tolerated. Which means Gansey wasn’t here. 

“Lynch.” Adam said, rather loud, he had thought. Apparently not though, because Ronan did not even open his eyes. He stalked over and lifted one of the headphones out of Ronan’s ear. “Lynch,” he repeated. 

Ronan peaked open an eye. “Parrish,” he said, and then closed it again. 

Adam rolled his eyes. He couldn’t understand what about Ronan drew Gansey in so much. But he supposed Gansey liked things as beyond comparison to anything else as him. Ronan was certainly inimitable. 

“Is Gansey here?” 

“No.” Ronan said, eyes still closed. 

“Do you know where he is?” Adam asked. “He has the work I missed.”

“I’m not his mother, Parrish.” Ronan said. Even with his eyes closed and his face relaxed, he seemed to be scowling. Like he was disappointed at what he was seeing, even when it was nothing. 

“Okay. Great, thanks.” Adam said, dropping the headphone and turning to leave. What a waste of time, he should have just called Gansey before he came or coordinated an actual time to get the work. He would’ve been saved the interaction with Ronan which did nothing but raise his blood pressure. 

“Rowing practice.” Ronan said from behind him, when Adam had gotten just about halfway across the apartment to leave. “Nice shiner, by the way.” 

Adam stopped walking. His eyes were trained straight ahead. He had missed school because he had stayed out too late helping Gansey with the search the night before and hadn’t fixed up the car, or mowed the lawn, or repaired the leak, or any of the other things his father had asked him to do. Those weren’t the actual reasons he’d missed school, but they directly correlated to what his dad did when he got home. 

Which is why he missed school. 

He had only been apart of this thing—this Gansey, Ronan, Noah, and Glendower thing—for a few months. Until now, the details of Adam’s home life included a lot of gray areas. They knew to pick him up from the end of the dirt road that led to the trailer park and not to enter. They knew sometimes he said he had to be home and he meant he _really had to be home._ They knew one time that he slipped in the shop and bruised his side up real good in a way that falling on a tool box shouldn’t have. 

Gansey was smart; he knew something was up, but he was just subtle and polite enough to know he couldn’t just ask. 

Ronan was less constrained by the laws of upperclass society. 

“Should’ve told us.” he said. 

Adam didn’t turn around, but he could picture Ronan still sitting there with his feet up and his eyes closed looking so extremely cavalier and not at all understanding the delicate terrain on which he was treading. 

**“I thought if I acted like it didn’t matter, then it wouldn’t.”** Adam said in a low voice. This was not the conversation he wanted to have. Especially not with Ronan Lynch.

“Bullshit.” Ronan said. 

Adam turned back around. “Excuse me?” he asked. 

“Talking about things doesn’t make them fucking valid. They’re valid when they happen.” It might’ve been the longest sentence Ronan willingly constructed in Adam’s presence without Gansey around to draw it out of him. 

Talking about things doesn’t make them valid. It explained a lot about how Ronan saw things. Adam considered it. He’d just assumed Ronan didn’t speak because he had nothing to contribute. Maybe, he thought now, Ronan didn’t speak because he didn’t think it changed things. Actions speak louder than words. 

Adam huffed. “Right.” he said, a little in disbelief that this conversation was happening. He looked at the door again, and then back at Ronan, who was the less appealing option for Adam’s attention. 

Not because he wasn’t appealing, but because he was too aware he was appealing, which made him arrogant. And that’s without listing all of his other disagreeable qualities. 

Adam decided once again it was time for this conversation to be over and for him to leave. 

“Didn’t anyone teach you to throw a fucking punch.” 

“God, no, Ronan. Would you like to insult my upbringing any more or may I go.”

He turned and expected the same careless image of vanity, but found Ronan instead with his feet on the ground his headphones around his neck and his eyes trained on what was previously the back of Adam’s head before he’d turned. 

Ronan stood up and walked towards the center of the room. He said “Parrish.” and pointed at the ground directly in front of him. 

Adam walked, against his better judgement, and stood across from Ronan.

“Make a fist.” he said. 

Adam did.

“Fuck, no, Parrish your thumb goes outside. Do you want to fucking break it.” Ronan grabbed Adam’s fist and corrected its positioning. 

The whole time, Adam was studying Ronan’s face. It looked a lot less mean and like he was on alert when he wasn’t paying attention. His effort was no longer on looking like a flashing neon sign that said “danger: will bite!” 

Adam filed this away to remember the next time Ronan did something he thought was cruel. Where did this Ronan go then?

“Better.” Ronan said. Adam looked back down at his fist. 

“Fucking splendid.” Ronan sighed in admiration of his handy work. “Now punch me.”

“What!” Adam snapped out of his reverence over his fist. 

“Fucking punch me, Parrish.”

Adam looked at Ronan appalled. “No.” he said, and took a step back. 

Ronan took a step forward. “No, do it. Parrish punch me.”

Adam didn’t respond. He searched in Ronan’s eyes for the joke, but there was none. Ronan didn’t joke.

“Don’t act like you’ve never fucking wanted to. Here’s your chance. Your lucky fucking day.” Ronan looked almost _annoyed_ that Adam hadn’t done it yet.

“I don-” Adam started and stopped. I don’t want to? I don’t know how? I don’t know what the fuck is going on? All valid questions Adam didn’t ask.

“God, Parrish. You have the fist. Pull it back. Only instruction is don’t think about how much it will hurt.” Ronan said. His hands were in his pockets. He was standing straight, not shying away from Adam despite their decently close proximity and the chance he was about to be punched. 

Adam looked in Ronan’s eyes for something that would tell him what to do. He found it though in his own reasonable thought: if you do this, you’ll earn his respect. 

Adam desperately wanted Ronan’s respect, as much as he hated to admit it. Gansey had it, and Adam wanted to be good enough to have it too. 

What Adam had failed to consider was that if Ronan didn’t already respect Adam, he wouldn’t be teaching him to throw a damn punch. He wouldn’t bother.

“Adam,” Ronan said. “just pu-”

Adam punched him. Ronan stumbled back a step, and one of his hands went to touch his face lightly. Adam cradled the hand he hit Ronan with in his other. He was right, it _hurt._

“Jesus fucking christ Parrish.” Ronan looked up at him, but he was smirking. Adam, despite his utter shock, smirked back.

“That’s how you throw a fucking punch.” 


End file.
